


Of Wooden Horses and Hoarding

by MewWitch



Series: Just a Drop in the Pond [1]
Category: Guardians of Childhood - William Joyce, Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: 300 years is a long time to be alone after all, Gen, Jack Frost is a sneaky little thief, Kleptomania, Minor Angst, Pre-Movie, and gives inanimate objects emotional attachment, who hoards his feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-04
Updated: 2013-02-04
Packaged: 2017-11-28 05:26:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/670780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MewWitch/pseuds/MewWitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack earned his place on the naughty list.</p><p>Just not how you might expect.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Wooden Horses and Hoarding

Contrary to popular belief, it wasn't his powers, or the pranks he often played with them that landed Jack Frost on the Naughty List.

It was his kleptomania.

He hadn't intended to start stealing, it had just kind of happened on its own. At first he would just gather the occasional discarded item children left behind when they were called in at night from playing in his snow: scarfs, dolls, the odd mitten or two. Things that wouldn't be missed or noticed in their absence.

Like him.

But in time it wasn't enough. He no longer was able to find solace in being able to simple hold things, to _know_ that he was able to pick up what they had held in their hands. Proof that he was _there_.

After all, ghosts wouldn't- _couldn't_ be able to touch anything.

So what could that make him? People still passed through him. Their eyes never even blinked when they strayed in his direction. He was less solid than the wind to them. The wind could actually catch their attention.

One day, after being stepped through for the thousand something time, Jack decided that enough was enough.

So he marched right after the little boy who'd left him feeling hollow inside and _SNATCHED_ the little toy horse he'd been pushing around right out of his hands.

And he flew away before the child could even wonder what had happened.

~*~*~*~

He'd felt badly about it later of course, even without anyone to tell him he knew it wasn't right to steal from a little kid. But that didn't mean he gave the toy back.

Instead he tried to focus his attention on others. Adults and teenagers, those who would never have seen him anyways-those who were too old to believe.

And once he started, he found he couldn't stop.

~*~*~*~

Eventually his humble collection of meager castoffs grew into a treasure hoard in its own right.

His hide-hole-originally found in an old hollowed out tree not too far from his lake in Burgess-quickly became too crowded to hold any more spoils and he was forced to relocate. Eventually he settled on a cave he carved himself down in the ice of Antarctica.

Over the years he would find himself spending hours, sometimes days at a time in his self-made sanctuary. Whenever the loneliness became too much, whenever he couldn't take being ignored anymore, he would retreat to his personal escape from the world.

He'd read through the various books he'd acquired, stare at pictures he'd snuck out of photo albums, play with the toys that the original owners had-oddly enough-preferred to keep in boxes instead of actually enjoying them. He had piles of paper for his attempts at recreating the folded animal art he'd lifted from Japan. There was even a small corner dedicated to the things he couldn't actually _do_ anything with. VHS tapes and Dvds. Cassettes, 8-tracks and CD's. All stuff he took yet didn't have the means of using.

Though he did manage to grab a boom box once back in the 80's. Trouble was he had nowhere to plug it in. In hindsight he really hadn't thought that one through.

He kept them all though, they were his now after all, along with all the other odds and ends he'd taken. Big or small, valuable or junk, if someone were to walk through him (and they always did), they would undoubtedly find something missing, swept off by the wind, never to be seen again.

~*~*~*~

Many would not be able to see value in most of the random assortment- _the buttons and pins, the different hats and shoes, a World's Best mug;_ but to Jack-to Jack they meant more than all the gold and fine jewels in the world.

For they had held value once.

They'd actually _meant_ something to someone.

Maybe once he'd collected enough, then Jack Frost would have some value too.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Personally head-canon tells me that Jack likes to collect little knick-knacks. Eventually evolved into the idea that maybe not everything he has was his to take in the first place.
> 
> Originally i was just going to write a quick and light little drabble, but this kinda got away from me slightly. I hadn't intended for the angst that mangaed to worm its way in here.
> 
> ~~~~IMPORTANT!!!!!~~~~
> 
> It's official! Gypsywriter135 has written a sequel to this(with my permission). It's called Glad You Came and it can be read here http://archiveofourown.org/works/762514
> 
> Also!!!!!! Kalael has drawn Fanart for this as well!!!! It was originally posted on their tumbler http://kalael.tumblr.com/post/47657889562/this-is-like-two-months-old-so-obvs-im-seeing, but I've also added it (as you can clearly see) above.


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